


Mate. Feed. (Kill.) Repeat.

by elizaria



Series: Captain Harkness and the vampires [2]
Category: Angel: the Series, Torchwood
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-26
Updated: 2009-12-26
Packaged: 2019-06-21 05:26:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15550623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizaria/pseuds/elizaria
Summary: [originally posted Dec. 26th, 2009]Happy Holidays for [livejournal.com profile] kita0610. I was going to do a small drabble, which I kinda did except the reread made another 3000 words (ooops) and I'm kinda drunk and probably missed a lot. But I swear, If I look it over again there's gonna be more words and therefore I'm posting this and stopping the rambling before it goes over the top.Continuance, sort of, of the ficlet I wrote in where Harkness visits Angel-verse. Also unbeta'd (I really need to get on that, sometime not now).5284 words according to Google docsSpike/Angel/Jack HarknessFandom: post-series Angel/TorchwoodNC-17unbeta'dSummary: So there was this in the earlier ficlet where Captain Harkness donated blood to the cause aka fed Angel so he could help him fight a monsteralien. Spike never had a taste then, and apparebtly I thought that needed fixing. Umm.. blood makes vampires hot under the collar?





	Mate. Feed. (Kill.) Repeat.

Harkness pretty much bounced in through the door, looking as fresh as daisies and not a lick of him looked like he belonged on the grey, ash-filled streets that were getting colder by the minute. The ashes was enough to fool you it was snowing if you looked at it out of the corner of your eye: Look at it for real and you'd notice the lack of light. Ice crystals have that shine to them, and ashes seem the opposite. Swallowing up the little light there was as the large clouds slowly made their way across the sky and blotted out the warmth of the sun. It wasn't enough to make everything go dark, but enough to make everything feel like he was back in Black Country and the coal fires were busy spewing smoke everywhere.  
  
"Well, aren't you looking shiny and new. Everybody's doing better with a little Jack in them." Angel just finished pulling on his shirt and turned his back on them, fiddling with his weapons and hiding in the corner. How very Angel. "Not that little is very apt."  
  
"Don't think you'll have a chance topping that, mate."  
  
"No?"  
  
Spike smirked at the look on Jack's face. Spike was still comfortably relaxed after a good seeing to by his own hand, he'd jerked off at the scent of blood still lingering in the room and the taste of Angel still thick on his tongue. He'd been staring at the bed the entire time, and Angel hadn't moved underneath the blankets. Not that Spike thought he would, it takes a lot more to rile Angel these days. "His Highness is too fine for things like that."  
  
"I bet you're not." Harkness gave a good leering his way, and Spike definitely liked the bloke's style.  
  
"Not at all, my friend. Not at all." Spike sprawled a bit wider in his chair, his legs spread and demanding space. It'd been a long time now since he'd had his legs wrapped around a human. Not since Buffy but he was not thinking about her, not one itty bit of lingering at her memory. Heat and strength and all those things love and obsession can give you and still not share anything.  
  
"No, give him a kind word and you'll have him lapping at your feet." Angel muttered from his corner, staring at Spike over his shoulder but looking away the second Spike stared back. Talk about a rude awakening, why'd he have to open his gob for? "And who taught me that then, whip in one hand and daddy's dick in the other?"  
  
That seemed like Angel wasn't up to answering for just yet.  
  
"You do know sex doesn't have to mean top or bottom? I go for all kinds of sex, including tentacled, aural and mental." Harkness interrupted, or at least the silent history between Spike and Angel made it feel like an interruption. Spike sat up straighter in his chair, "Doesn't everyone go for oral?"  
  
Harkness leaned against the wall, his coat spread like grey wings framing his body. "Aural, as in enveloped in shiny cloud of happiness? No? Guess that's just me then."  
  
Harkness was looking good enough to eat, his scent like that chocolate and chili that Willow bought so much of. A mix of heat and dark sweetness, and Spike wanted to know what the good Captain would really  _taste_  like. Yet another damned item on the list of things that Angel had had a taste of before Spike. But at least this one wasn't so unattainable like Buffy and Dru. The good Captain seemed right attainable and greedy for it. "Can't say I tried that one mate. And I've tried a lot. Thanks to His Poofness and his lady of ice. They liked to try all sorts of things and what's better than have someone to test it on first?"  
  
"Tell me more."  
  
Spike was sure he didn't imagine the subtle shifts in Harkness' body, he was ripe pickings that one. "Oh, I have all sorts of tales to tell." Spike tilted his hips just like  _that_ , playing it up as a simple shift on the chair, just so he could follow Harkness' eyes on his body. Would you look at that...  
  
"Could you wait with the regaling of dirty l..ies and get on with the demon slaying. I'd like to go home, have a bath and dinner and my bed. In that order."  
  
Spike was getting annoyed at Angel for always interrupting his fun. And of course he had to go and stumble off the word laundry, as if calling it lies would make their tawdry (in  _Angel's_  eyes) history look any better. "Your bed blew up, ponce."  
  
"So, I'll stay in a hotel. Don't argue for the sake of arguing Spike." The looming if anything should have clued Spike in on the fact that His Poofdom was right as rain again, the gaping stomach wound really hadn't approved on anything but hunching over and curling up like a jelly donut.  
  
"And why not? I like arguing with you, it makes your forehead look even bigger when your scrunching it like that." So maybe he'd forgotten that little detail when he poked the big man in his ginormous forehead. That Angel no longer had any problem lifting him up and slamming him up against the wall.  
  
"Oh, that's really hot."  
  
Angel dropped him so fast Spike stumbled to his knees, his face against Angel's coattails as Angel had turned around and was all likely dropping his jaw at Jack's words. This was all so bloody ridiculous that Spike slumped on his ass and laughed his heart out. When he tilted his head back down to try and wipe the silly grin off of his face he found two people staring at him, Harkness with a big smile but Angel was the riddle here. The look on Angel's face didn't make a lick of sense to Spike, Angel almost looked like he wanted to smile while swallowing something bitter. Either that or his wounds were bothering him again.  
  
"Let's go hunt some demons, eh? And end this farce." Spike scrambled off the floor, ungracefully but quick enough to grab a weapon and open the door before the other two had caught up.  
  
  
-|-|-|-|-|-  
  
  
So, he'd been a fool to think killing things would make things better. Wouldn't be the first time and it certainly wouldn't be the last. They were soggy with the puddles they'd been rolling around in, soggy  _and_  smelly. Harkness had died once on them, the torishmahin (the name would never leave his brain this time around, not after hearing Harkness cough it at him from death's door when he woke up all alive again) had literally squeezed the life out of him.  
  
Spike ached everywhere, he'd been bleeding all over himself for a good while and his clothes were stiff and uncomfortable with the dried blood. And they had no hotel to go to because there wasn't anywhere that would let them in, and fighting their way inside would pretty much defeat the purpose. Especially now that most hotels in the area had armed up to keep the humans on the inside safe and the monsters from coming in.  
  
Angel was already at the spigot and filling buckets with cold water, Spike shuddered at the thought but clean cold water was much better than the filth he was covered in now. It took them a while of scrubbing clean before remembering that they were three naked men scuffling around the same buckets and pouring water over each other. Spike's prick wasn't late on picking that up when Harkness rubbed at a spot of dried mucus on Spike's back, the warm hands felt even more delicious now that Spike was covered in cold water.  
  
"Spike." Angel growled at him when he managed to bump his hard-on into Angel's thigh while stretching to fill another bucket.  
  
"Piss off Angel. Ignore it if it offends your precious sensibility."  
  
"Give me back my space then, you idiot. I'm not gonna suddenly feel the need to take you in hand."  
  
"Not like I thought you would, you've probably forgotten what to do with your hands these days you self imposed monk. I'm surprised it hasn't atrophmffmf-"  
  
"Self imposed? Would you like Angelus' back then, little William? Have ye missed him?" One of these days Spike is sure he'll learn how to think before speaking because there was nowhere in his mind a plan to get smashed up against the wall with a furious Angel in his face. One of Angel's large fists around Spike's throat and the other squeezing his face together like he was trying to crack it like a bloody coconut. Spike didn't even realise he'd bitten his tongue with the force Angel used to shut him up, not until he notices the way Angel's staring at Spike's mouth, his blood dripping over Angel's hand.  
  
And somewhere here something goes off the deep end because once Angel realises what he wants, he usually tosses Spike aside and does some flagellating while Spike goes out of his way and jerks off.  
  
Now Angel licks the blood, slowly and deliberately while staring at Spike and not loosening his grip one bit. Pain's biting into Spike's face, the concrete wall's digging into his back and his dick is hard enough to pound nails. So he stares right back and deliberately slow lets his weight hang in Angel's hands while he lifts and curls his legs around Angel's waist. His spine pops an ugly sound, while his body works like a fucking movie replay in slow-motion, everything to not jar the moment and make Angel change his mind. But in the curl of his hips against Angel's, his legs tight around his back, he notices the way Angel inches closer. To balance the way they fit together, and Spike can feel Angel's dick hard against the inside of his thigh and if he had any air to use up he'd crow his victory loudly.  
  
He tries to swallow against the fingers around his throat, it's useless but he enjoys the way Angel takes notice of the movement against the palm of his hand. Oh he  _ought_  to remember those muscles, he's the one who taught Spike how to use them. How to hide his new teeth, to make it a soft smooth glide up and down. To work his jaw and not let it lock up, to remember to use his tongue even when his mouth and neck was sore and exhausted and the way Angelus liked him to use his lips. It should be bright clear in the bastard's mind how Darla sat next to them, telling Spike how to swallow deep without drooling and how to finish off properly. Just as she told him what his punishment would be if he messed up her precious bedsheets.  
  
Which is of course why Angelus loved to mess up Spike, to rub it in and all over. To come on his face and then pinch Spike's nipples and thighs to bruising, while laughing at the way Spike tried not to flinch in case he would end up spattering the bed with  _Angelus'_  spunk. Yet it would always be his, Spike's, fault. Never the dear old Sire's fault. Unless she was in the mood to work Angelus over, then she didn't need  _any_  excuses.  
  
Spike was lost in his memories long enough that he didn't see Angel move. The teeth sinking into his neck and the hands bruising his thighs made him jerk and arch his back into Angel's chest. Angel's skin slippery with water and Spike's calves slip and slide as they try to find purchase enough to rub his dick against Angel's stomach. To come closer and steal every god damned moment of this for his own pleasure.  
  
But Angel's teeth's are inside him and his dick is poking into Spike's thigh and ass and fuck everything, it's so good he buries one hand into Angel's hair and presses him closer as his other is raking his nails down Angel's back. If Angel doesn't want him to mess up his hair, he can get Spike for it later. It's been so long since he got to feed Angelus (never Angel, never ever) that the memory's turned bitter with longing. Arching against him, feeling trapped and held in place. And maybe it's wishful thinking but the way Angel's swallowing Spike's blood in deep gulps that maybe Angel missed this too. The growl Angel makes against Spike's throat as Spike's nails leaves lines of red down Angel's back, is like a key to unlocking Spike's voicebox. His forgotten silence is broken by a shivery moan, turning into words of filthy appreciation as Angel fists Spike's hair and pulls his throat in a tense line to bite him harder.  
  
So what if he's making sounds - he's gonna be embarrassed about them later. He's too busy soaking up the fact that he's being used by his maker, that Angel takes what he wants like he hasn't since he was an evil son of a bitch and Spike shifts his hips and tries to get closer. The whine in his throat is something he's going to deny to his death that he ever made, but he wants,  _needs_  Angel inside him. Breaking him open into a thousand pieces he's going to spend years (again) picking up, so if he gets to only have this now he wants the full ride and no half-measures.  
  
The hot hand wrapping around his dick makes his shout in surprise, and Angel isn't late to notice it either. His teeth leave his flesh with a rip and his eyes are yellowed as he stares at Harkness. Who's laughing, good old laughing and nothing Spike had ever thought he'd see. "Look at that, those eyes are some kind of gorgeous. You don't mind me sharing a helping hand here, do you?" The hand Harkness was slowly moving up and down Spike's dick with a way too gentle touch, slick already with the way Spike's been hard and wanting for what feels like ages. Angel's eyes fade back to normal and Spike can already feel his grip loosening, and there will be none of hair shirts and self blame and leaving Spike at the arse end of guilt, so he mashes his lips against Angel's and curling his hips against Harkness' hands and Angel's torso. Bites at his own tongue and feeding Angel with every deep stroke of his tongue, and so what if he's overplaying his appease-his-Sire-like-a-good-fledge just a little. It gets Angel revving, growling into his mouth and nipping at Spike's lips.  
  
It's with a oomph of surprise that Spike finds himself tossed onto their pallet of blankets, staring up at Angel towering above him. He's streaked with Spike's blood and he couldn't have looked tastier. Angel's dick hard and bobbing in the air and once again Spike forgets Harkness. He really should stop doing that, what with him tossing himself down on the bed next to Spike with a look of unholy glee on his face. Like he's gotten the princess and the gold at the end of the rainbow already, and by the looks of it Angel is one of those things. "I like that worked up look on him. How about you?" Except maybe him opening his mouth will put Angel back on second thoughts and recriminations, and then the good captain can look for his rainbow elsewhere. Because they'd all be having blue balls and a brooding vampire who won't go near Spike again. But Spike finds himself answering anyway, staring up at Angel with a dare on his face, "Always." And before he let's himself see Angel's reaction to that he clambers onto his knees and swallows Angel's prick to the root. His nose buried in a scent he once was so used to that he'll never forget it, his tongue rippling against Angel's shaft as he slowly moves up and down. It's all in his body's every move, like it hasn't been a hundred years or two since. Spike let's himself look up, and he finds Angel staring down at him with want and greed and Spike swallows hard in surprise.  
  
Angel grabs him by the hair and pulls him off, and if he was human he'd be flushed and sweaty and shaking with need about now. Instead he feels Harkness grab his chest and pull him backwards, into his warmth while Angel settles down on the chair and watches. His hand just holding his dick, wet with Spike's spit and he doesn't even have to say a word because Spike already knows that Angel's wanting for a show. He always did like that, on his terms and Spike knows those terms by his shriveled black heart.  
  
So he tilts his head back and kisses Harkness, his arm behind his neck and holding that warm skin and beating pulse close. Moans as he feels Harkness map out every corner in his mouth, chasing after Angel's taste, and biting his lips as he draws back. Good kisser. Real good at using his tongue and Spike flips over to get at it better. Takes Jack down with him so Spike's standing on all fours above, teasing and tasting and gets swallowed down by every warm breath against his cheek, hands in his hair and against his ribs holding Spike in place.  
  
Slowly Spike tastes his fill, bites the lips but is sure not to break skin as he moves aside and traces the hot cheek down to Jack's stubbled chin and that soft spot underneath his jaw. Spike's almost drooling over the memories of skin breaking with a pop and hot blood gushing in his mouth, just as much as it makes his teeth ache his heart hurts even worse. The soul's relentless in making him feel the pain but the trust in this body moving underneath him mutes it. So he noses, and nips and licks his way down Harkness neck. Harkness smells like a spice Spike's never tasted, like wool and ozone, like thunderstorms and deserts. Spike could stay against his skin forever, and maybe Angel guessed it but the whispered "Spike" makes Spike lift and turn his head anyways. Spike hadn't noticed it but he's breathing like bellows, and his hands are leaving bruises on Jack's shoulders and arms. And Harkness hadn't said . one . word. Angel's look in his eyes and face says it all, he knows exactly how shaky Spike's right now but Angel's stare is silent and steady and Spike buries his face against Harkness chest and whispers a "bloody hell."  
  
So when Harkness grabs Spike's hands he's sure he's gonna get tossed off, but instead Harkness is using them to direct him up and backwards, sitting up with him. "Not one more word out of you. Come here." And Spike follows, sits back on his knees so he's spread out over Harkness' lap, Spike's wrists in a strong grip and Jack looking at him while his other hand is tracing Spike's cheekbones. "You're one real pretty creature." Jack's nose follows the same path and when he reaches Spike's ear he nips it hard, making Spike buck in a grip that doesn't falter. "Trust me, I got this."  
  
One hand holds its tight clasp while the other  _touches_  him, everywhere. Warm hand leaving imaginary chilled trails where it's been and Spike finds himself shivering in his grip, his thighs clenching and his dick drooling. He's making sounds again, rough noisy moans that Jack licks off his lips and swallows greedily. Once Jack finally touches Spike's dick he shudders so hard he almost falls apart, onto the bed like so much noise and want. But Jack holds him up by the grip of his wrists against the small of his back and tilting him a little. To show Angel better, Spike realises and kisses Jack harder to stop himself from making more noises.  
  
"Ambidextrous hands." Jack whispers in his ear and Spike hiccups a laughter that quiets as Jack squeezes him tighter, his hand sliding easily up and down and the twist makes him arch tighter into the fist bruising his wrists like something delicious and old history. The hand around his neck makes him snap up in wonder where Jack grew another hand, only to realise Angel's kneeling beside them. He tries to say something but words seems too difficult and Angel's hand on his neck is comfortable and known and he follows its direction without a second thought, and finds himself against Jack's warm sweaty neck and he startles so badly he bumps into Jack's collarbone. But Jack's twisting his hand, breathing a "Shhhh" into his ear and Spike shakes with it and Angel's hand is holding him right there.  
  
"Come on, have at it. Taste me." Jack's voice in his ear, his tongue licking a wet stripe up Spike's cheek and Angel's thumb digging into the soft spot beneath Spike's ear. Spike's teeth are out before he realises it, scraping Jack's skin gently and watching the blood well out in fat droplets that glide down easily on sweaty skin. Jack groans and squeezes Spike harder as Spike licks them up. The taste blooms on his tongue, sticking to the roof of his mouth and glides down the back of his throat like something daring and forbidden. Spike bites down for real and the blood's s hot, burning as it goes down with the memories of how things used to be. Spike had forgotten what it felt like to have it slide into his mouth like it was the simplest thing and not the gift it really is. Holding Jack's life in his teeth and tongue like this is heady with power and the sudden gratitude he feels terrifies him as much as it's pissing him off. He bites down harder to forget it and feels Jack arch underneath him, closer and into his mouth. Spike flexes his hands to try and touch him but Jack doesn't let him have any of that. "Let me touch you, come on," Spike whispers with blooded mouth against broken skin, sliding his lips against Jack's pulse.  
  
Spike's shaking with all of it. Too much of a good thing and it's only Angel's presence that keeps Spike from coming, like the good Pavlov's dog Spike is. His insides feel lit up by the heat of the blood when the warmth really shouldn't be any different than microwaved. Spike arches into the hands trapping him and he wants to touch. He doesn't notice Angel's hand moving until he feels it against Jack's hands trapping Spike's wrists, and then Angel's huge hands are grabbing Spike's hips and digging his thumbs into Spike's ass. Suddenly Spike's seconds away from going off like a bloody rocket and he sinks his teeth in deeper in some half assed attempt to ground himself and not think about those large hands and what they can do. The bruising bite seems to catch Jack's interest from the way sounds and words are spilling over but Spike's not sure it's any language known to man.  
  
Angel and Jack seems to have a plan all worked out but forgot to tell Spike about it cause he just about falls flat on his face when Jack let's go and Angel pulls his hips back. It's Jack's hands that catch his face, sticky fingers that Jack spreads over Spike's cheek and lips and kisses him through them. Spike's licking his own taste off of them, moaning as Jack does the same. Licks that turns into gentle bites as Jack slides his fingers between Spike's lips. Sucking on them hard and deep as he feels Angel's fingers sliding inside him, sticky and wet. Angel puts Spike on all fours and wide open and slides in like it hasn't been forever since they did this and Spike can feel himself cursing praises to Angel that he'll regret in the morning, bowing his head against the floor sucking in breaths he don't need but suddenly feel bloody necessary.  
  
Angel's saying something but Spike can't hear him, he's too busy trying to shut up and not touch his cock (so he can come and pass out and not give a fuck about this game they're playing anymore). But Jack's hands are back on Spike'ss face, in his hair, holding him up and Spike couldn't have been more grateful to have a cock in his mouth. Spike takes him in deep, buries his nose in hot curls and human skin and stops thinking. He slowly backs up and tastes Jack, sweat and salt and pre-come exploding on his tongue. Spike works his best, and his best is bloody good and it isn't long till Jack's fisting his hands harder in his hair and holds him still. Makes Spike wait for it, licking his lips and grinning down at Spike, tracing Spike's lips with the head of his cock and moves with Angel so no matter how much Spike tries he never gets close enough. Then the look changes, and Spike's sure he's about to get skullfucked but instead gets pulled off completely. He groans in frustration. "Is anyone gonna come tonight?"  
  
Angel goes completely still inside him, like a bloody statue, "Are you complaining Spike?"  
  
Spike knew he should have kept his mouth busy and not say shit, it always messes things up. "About you fucking me? Not one bit mate. About this dancing around and slow pace, maybe I am."  
  
"You always were quick, Spike."  
  
"And coming's so bad then is it?"  
  
"Making you squirm for it is so much fun." Angel punctuates his words with a deep thrust.  
  
"Fucker, you like me squirming on that cock of yours. I get it." Spike clenches down tight on him, smiling at the sounds Angel makes. "Come on then, give it to me, and I'll dance for you." Spike twists his hips with a shimmy, feeling Angel twitch inside him. "How 'bout you then, Jack? You wanna get your end away? Or do you wanna play blue balls for longer?"  
  
Angel pulls at Spike's ball sack, just hard enough to make Spike yell. "You don't have blue balls yet Spike, and if you don't shut up you'll definitely have a pair of your own."  
  
"So make me, this isn't a bloody tea party." If nothing else it was a lot less bloodied and insane than the tea parties Spike was used to. Angel knew it too.  
  
"Am I being too souled for you Spike? Do you miss not having any skin left on your back?" Angel's hand in his hair twists Spike's neck hard enough that Spike can hear the grinding noises in his bones. It hurts. His cock takes notice. Unfortunately Angel doesn't miss a thing. "We'll get back on this Spike. Later. Right now we have a guest and I think you should shut up and make him come."  
  
That  _later_  was ominous enough that it made him shiver, it was a promise and a threat and laid out all sorts of possibilities. But, later. Jack was looking at them, his hand holding his cock and stretched out on the bed. "So Jack, what would you like? My mouth, my hands? Trade places with Angel?" Maybe fucking him wasn't part of the list of choices if the way Angel's hand twisted in Spike's hair was any indication. But Spike wouldn't mind. One bit. He had a good prick on him, Jack. Long and curved, nice girth, and uncut just as Angel's and his.  
  
Jack stood up, leaning against the wall. "Come here."  
  
Angel held Spike's head just a second too long, before he slid out and rocked back on his haunches. Spike felt empty, and it was a feeling he was probably going to get used to again. Unless Angel really did mean something with his  _later_. So Spike crawls, slow and graceful like he knows Angel likes till Spike's on his knees in front of Jack again. He mouths at Jack's cock, slides his tongue between Jack's fingers, licks his knuckles and slips the salty head between his lips. But that's as far as he goes because Jack pulls him off, and instead pushes him against his thigh. "Here. I want you to bite me. Drink your fill till I come."  
  
Spike rubs his face against the sweaty skin, slides his cheek against Jack's cock and fist as he noses the soft skin at the crease of his thigh. Licks coarse hair and sweat and he tastes so much human that Spike's mouth waters. He can hear the pulse beating underneath, so close, and he wraps his left arm around Jack's thigh. He spreads his right over Jack's arse and the small of his back, and sucks small bites just to hear Jack moan and shiver against him. Spreading his knees so he can rub his cock against Jack's leg, Spike settles and bites down. Jack yells and his arms fly up, scrabbling at the wall. Spike bites to bruise and Jack rocks into his face, and then Angel's there holding Jack's flailing hands above his head and eating up his noises.  
  
Spike can see that Angel has to work for it holding Jack as he struggles, but from the moans and cries it's the  _good_  kind of tug war. Spike swallows deep gulps and if this was anyone else but Jack he'd be worried at the amounts going down his gullet. But Jack just shivers against him, dripping pre-come and twisting against Angel. Three more mouthfuls and Jack's coming. Hot drops over Spike's throat and shoulder, sliding down his chest and if Spike could fool himself he was allowed to come he would have already. But he just holds Jack as he sags against them, slides back so Angel can put him down on the blankets.  
  
Jack's barely landed before Spike trips Angel hard onto the floor and crawls on top of him. "Now  _I_ get to come?" This is never a discussion they have, but Angel owns this part of him, and right now Spike's not sure he could come  _at all_  without permission. When it's with anyone but Angel it's not a problem (anymore), but Angel is Angelus and his brain refuses to part the two.  
  
Angel rolls them over, presses Spike down until he can feel every grain of the concrete, and mouths against Spike's neck. Angel nips and licks, bites bruises and long laps of wet tongue and Spike realises Angel's tasting Jack on Spike. "Fuck!"  
  
"Another time." Then Angel's sinking his teeth in and splits Spike open, licks the blood and come, and kisses him with copper and bitter salt. His large fist around Spike's cock and a whispered order in his ear. Spike bucks so hard when he comes his body feels like it's gonna snap in two, his toes curling into knots and he falls flat like a sack of bricks. Spike dazedly licks his lips and looks at Angel, but Angel just glances him a look Spike can't decipher and buries his head and teeth in Spike's neck and comes all over Spike's belly. Angel flops down on the floor next to Spike, and they're both as flat as days old American beer.  
  
"So..."  
  
"Later."  
  
"Right."  
  
There's that later again. Spike's gonna hold Angel to it. Even if he has to call in Harkness...


End file.
